


Against the Angel's Will

by siephilde42



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Don’t copy to another site, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Intended Sexual Abuse, M/M, Pre-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), The worst physical abuse happening here is unwanted face touching, mind-control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 14:16:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20565734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siephilde42/pseuds/siephilde42
Summary: Aziraphale needs saving from a human man with an uncanny resemblance to Crowley who can force his will on anyone.





	Against the Angel's Will

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I hate the places my imagination takes me to. Once that idea popped into my head, I felt I had to get it out of my system, though. The story takes a turn before really bad things happen, but that does not mean that it cannot be triggering - please mind the tags.

"You are quite an interesting man. Well-read. I like that."

Aziraphale tries to move, but finds himself unable to. He swallows hard. _Why? Why does he need to look like a human version of Crowley?_

The man sitting opposite him smiles. "And you have taste. A regular at the Ritz. Fancy that."

A waiter hurries over to their table. At the sight of the gentleman clad in purple, he raises his eyebrows.

"You will just pretend that I am his usual dining companion", the man says.

Sweat drips down Aziraphale's neck. _Please, no. Someone help. _

But of course, the waiter just walks back to the kitchen after the man has ordered for both of them.

"Oh! How impolite of me. I forgot to introduce myself", the gentleman realises, chuckling. He takes hold of Aziraphale's hand to shake it. "Name's Kilgrave."

*

"Dessert?" the caricature of Crowley asks when they are done with the main course.

If the angel's will were his own right now, he would, for once, say "No, thank you." But as things are, he takes the suggestion. "Yes, please." His mouth twitches violently.

After dessert, the man offers his arm to Aziraphale. "Let's go home, sweetheart." Aziraphale has no choice but to take the arm and let himself being led away.

At the bookshop, Kilgrave says to him "Settle down over there", pointing at the sofa.

_No. Not there, _Aziraphale thinks, but his legs answer to Kilgrave all the same.

"Well. Let's take these glasses off", the man determines, for he surprised Aziraphale while reading at his desk earlier. "They're not helpful when it comes to intimacy." He removes them, ever so gently. His voice is smooth, like silk. Smiling, he reaches out and touches Aziraphale's cheek. "Now, now." He tuts. "You seem so tense. I command you to _enjoy _it."

For a brief moment, Aziraphale actually leans into the touch.

Then, the bells jingle.

His tormentor turns around with a start to see an almost-doppelganger of himself.

Aziraphale makes use of that short moment of confusion to call out. "Crowley, _run_. He can force his will on anyone by talking!"

"Shut up", Kilgrave commands, causing Aziraphale's mouth to clasp shut. He takes a step towards Crowley. "As for you..."

He never gets to finish the sentence because Crowley has stopped time for everything except for himself and his angel friend. Passing the frozen figure, Crowley rushes to Aziraphale. "Angel, are you _all right_?"

The angel nods. "Yes. Yes. He didn't get to the... really bad part yet."

It takes Crowley less than a second to grasp the full extent of that sentence. Horrified, he exclaims "He wanted to... _bloody hell_." He hisses violently and whirls around, growling at the still figure. "You _bastard_. I'll rip out your throat. And before that, I'll..."

"Crowley", the angel interrupts. "Wouldn't you get into trouble for actively killing someone you were not ordered to?"

The demon turns to him, not saying anything.

The angel continues. "Well... I mean... he does seem like someone your side would approve of. Which means they probably have an eye on him, haven't they? Which means that there will be questions if he dies."

Aziraphale has never seen such disgust at Crowley's face. Not during the time of the Spanish Inquisition. Not during World War II.

"I suppose", the demon finally agrees, in a dangerously low voice.

All Crowley wants at that moment is to send that creature straight to Hell. But the angel is worried. Worried. About. Him.

The demon sighs. "Very well. I think it's my turn now. You... you forget what has just happened and walk out of that private lib... bookshop and never, never ever come back. And if you ever happen to see Mr. A.Z. Fell again, you'll just ignore him and leave him the hell alone. Did you get that?"

"Yes", Kilgrave replies in a flat, monotone voice and leaves the bookshop.

When the door has closed behind him, Aziraphale lets out the breath he has been holding for some time. "Thank you. That was quite close."

_Too close_, Crowley thinks but does not say it aloud. "Well. Let's just hope his descent into Hell doesn't take too long."

Aziraphale is usually not one to wish such things, but he gives a small nod. "You know, it's strange", the angel states.

"What?"

"He looked like a human version of you. But he seemed to be more of a demon than you."

Crowley scoffs. "Oh, stop talking nonsense, angel."

THE END


End file.
